“Because I’ve heard, lieutenant, that Mademoiselle Virginie’s a terrible liar.”
“That is true; yes, I have had proofs of it more than once.”
“That’s very bad, after all that you’ve done for her! But you’re so kindhearted, you always allow yourself to be imposed on! Ten thousand carbines! if the hussy had killed herself every time she threatened to perish because she didn’t have enough to pay her rent——”
“Come, come, Monsieur Bertrand, be quiet! You have a wicked tongue.—Go on, Bébelle; I believe you’re asleep.”
“And one evening, when you went out, and she told me her troubles! She said that if she had had a weakness for you, it was because she was too loving, but that she was determined to change her ways, not to see you any more, and to make up with her aunt. For my part, I believed every word of it; in fact, she had such a sincere way of saying it, that I felt all ready to cry. But no sooner did she learn that you were at the masked ball than she shouted: ‘I’m going too, Bertrand! lend me some clothes, I’m going to dress as a man!’—‘What, mademoiselle,’ says I, ‘when you’re talking about being good and not seeing Monsieur Auguste any more!’—At that she began to laugh like a madwoman and called me an old turkey-cock! Faith, lieutenant, I don’t understand a woman like that.”
“I can well believe it, my poor Bertrand; even I myself don’t understand her, and I know her better than you do.”
“I like that little light-haired woman better; you know, lieutenant, the one you got acquainted with by carrying back the little poodle she’d lost, that I found lying at our door at night.”
“You mean Léonie?”
“No, I mean Madame de Saint-Edmond.”
“Léonie and Saint-Edmond are the same person.”